Chapter 12 - The Blood Test Julian Never Saw
The federal building was locked down for three hours.
No attacker was found.
No weapon.
No breached door.
Someone had triggered multiple security alarms remotely.
A distraction.
During the confusion, one thing disappeared.
Beatrice Lang’s evidence bag.
Inside it had been a phone.
Agents later recovered the bag.
Empty.
Beatrice refused to continue speaking.
Her attorney arrived.
Interview terminated.
But Clara could not forget her final sentence.
Ask Julian who his real father is.
She called Julian that night.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Daniel searched public records.
Edward Mercer was Julian’s legal father.
No dispute.
Birth certificate normal.
Hospital record normal.
But Clara had learned not to trust normal records.
She contacted Margaret Mercer.
Julian’s mother.
Margaret had avoided public attention since the raid.
She answered after five rings.
“Clara.”
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“It concerns Julian’s father.”
Silence.
Then:
“Come alone.”
Daniel objected.
Clara went with federal surveillance anyway.
Margaret lived on a private estate in Westchester.
She opened the door herself.
No staff.
No makeup.
No jewelry.
Clara had never seen her look so old.
“You know.”
“I know nothing.”
Margaret led her into the library.
“Beatrice told you?”
“She told me to ask Julian who his real father is.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“God.”
“Who?”
“Julian doesn’t know.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Margaret poured herself water.
Her hands trembled.
“I was twenty-six.”
“Who?”
“Thomas.”
Clara stared.
The room stopped.
“No.”
Margaret looked ashamed.
“Thomas Ellison.”
Clara stood.
“That’s impossible.”
“It happened before he married Evelyn.”
“Thomas was my father.”
“Adoptive father.”
Clara’s stomach turned.
“Julian is Thomas’s son?”
“Yes.”
Clara backed away.
Her husband.
The man she married.
Was biologically the son of the man who raised her.
Not biologically her brother.
But raised by her father’s blood.
The emotional violation was dizzying.
“Did Thomas know?”
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“When Julian was twenty-seven.”
Clara calculated.
Two years after their wedding.
Her father died when Julian was twenty-seven.
She stared at Margaret.
“You told Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three months before he died.”
Clara understood instantly.
Thomas’s investigation had become personal.
Julian was not merely Edward Mercer’s son in Thomas’s eyes.
He was Thomas’s biological child trapped inside the Mercer empire.
“Did Julian know?”
“No.”
“Edward?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He found letters.”
“When?”
“Years earlier.”
“Why did he raise Julian?”
Margaret smiled bitterly.
“Pride.”
Of course.
Edward would rather raise another man’s son than admit publicly that his wife had betrayed him.
“Did Edward hate Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“Enough to kill him?”
Margaret’s face changed.
“I wondered.”
“But?”
“Edward came home the night Thomas died covered in blood.”
Clara’s breath stopped.
“What?”
“He said there had been an accident.”
“What kind?”
“He refused to tell me.”
“Did you ask?”
“I was afraid.”
“Did you tell police?”
“No.”
Clara’s anger flared.
“You all protected him.”
Margaret began crying.
“I know.”
“Twelve years.”
“I know.”
“Thomas raised me. He was Julian’s biological father. And every person around us knew pieces of this except us.”
“I’m sorry.”
Clara laughed bitterly.
“Everyone is sorry after the dead person can’t ask questions.”
Margaret covered her face.
Clara turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
Clara stopped.
Margaret opened a drawer.
She removed an envelope.
“Thomas gave me this two days before he died.”
Clara stared.
“Why didn’t you open it?”
“I did.”
“What is it?”
“A paternity test.”
Clara took it.
The results confirmed Thomas Ellison as Julian Mercer’s biological father with overwhelming probability.
There was also a handwritten note.
Margaret,
Edward knows. I believe he may use this to manipulate Julian. I am trying to resolve something larger involving the family accounts. If I fail, tell Julian the truth only when doing so will keep him alive.
Thomas.
Clara read the last line twice.
Keep him alive.
Thomas had believed Julian might be in danger.
Clara called Julian again.
This time he answered.
“Where have you been?”
“Handling my company.”
“Your company may not survive.”
“I know.”
“Julian.”
“What?”
“Thomas Ellison was your father.”
Silence.
Then a laugh.
Not amused.
Disbelieving.
“What?”
“Margaret told me.”
“No.”
“There’s a DNA test.”
“No.”
“Julian.”
“Stop.”
“Thomas knew.”
“Stop.”
“He knew before he died.”
Julian disconnected.
Clara stared at the phone.
Ten minutes later, Agent Cole called.
“Julian just left his residence.”
“Where is he going?”
“We don’t know.”
“Follow him.”
“We are.”
At 1:14 a.m., Julian’s vehicle entered an industrial district in Brooklyn.
Agents followed at a distance.
He stopped outside an abandoned warehouse.
One light was on inside.
Julian entered alone.
The federal team waited.
Three minutes later, Clara received a text from Julian.
I KNOW WHO KILLED THOMAS.
She called.
No answer.
Another text arrived.
DON’T COME HERE.
Then:
IT WASN’T EDWARD.
Clara stared at the screen.
A final message appeared.
May you like
IT WAS SOMEONE THOMAS TRUSTED MORE THAN ANY MERCER.
Then Julian’s phone went offline.
